


oh summer breeze, bring that boy home

by samariumwriting



Series: time's warm embrace begins to heal all [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Feel-good, Gender Issues, M/M, Misgendering, Pre-Relationship, Trans Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Trans Male Character, Trans Sylvain Jose Gautier, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29941485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: The day after Dimitri graduates, he wakes up to a text from an old friend he never could have predicted: 'Hi Dimitri, kinda awks but I thought I'd ask you about it. What do I do if I think I might be a man?'They reconnect, and Dimitri offers to help his friend with everything that comes next. There are highs and lows, but along the way Dimitri rekindles a wonderful friendship and falls in love just a little.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: time's warm embrace begins to heal all [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202006
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	oh summer breeze, bring that boy home

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is for the Dimivain Big Bang! It was really fun to work on a more extensive piece for this ship and I'm super glad I participated. I worked with [@CMDonovann](https://twitter.com/CMDonovann), who made two absolutely wonderful pieces of [art](https://twitter.com/CMDonovann/status/1369429743255363584?s=20) for this fic
> 
> This fic is in a series I may add to if the mood strikes me, but as it is this stands on its own!
> 
> Additional warnings: the transphobia and misgendering are from parents. There are some references to gender dysphoria (but it's not all a downer!), as well as past child abuse and mental health problems (specifically a reference to hallucination).
> 
> There is one scene which involves verbal abuse; if you would like to skip the section, it starts at "What he was expecting when there was a knock on the door was to open it to one of his neighbours" and ends at ""Good evening," he said, and it was all Dimitri could do to not let out a sigh of relief right there."
> 
> Please look after yourself - definitely skip down to the next scene break or tab out if any of these things end up being too much for you. Beyond all of that, I hope you enjoy!

It wasn't until the sun streamed through his bedroom curtains that Dimitri woke on the first day of the Blue Sea Moon. He was warm - far warmer than he usually would be waking up in the morning - and when he rolled over to pick up his phone, he realised why.

It wasn't eight in the morning like it usually was when he woke up. Instead, the minutes ticked steadily towards eleven - he'd been asleep for nearly twelve hours.

Ah well. He supposed he must have needed it, and for once he had nowhere else to be.

Dimitri couldn't help but smile at the thought of it. Freedom. Yesterday’s graduation ceremony was the culmination of years of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly the latter). Now all of it was done. Yesterday was stressful; the last few _years_ were stressful, but now it was done, and today was the beginning of the rest of his life.

Starting it by checking his ConnectMe messages at eleven in the morning, not even bothering to get out of bed because he didn't _need_ to (and Goddess did that feel good. He would be happy if he never had to get out of bed before nine ever again), was a good omen.

The message right at the top of his notifications was even more of one. It was from an old friend, a name he vaguely recognised but hadn't interacted with in years. The message read, very simply:

'Hi Dimitri, kinda awks but I thought I'd ask you about it. What do I do if I think I might be a man?'

Dimitri checked the timestamp of the message, his heart racing slightly. He winced; it was sent at five in the morning. Ouch.

There was really only one thing to do with this. He definitely wasn't going to ignore it. His fingers hovered over the screen for a while, half from the control over his brain he hadn't quite wrestled back from sleep and half from indecision.

It was a big question, with a bigger answer. And probably none that didn't involve more questions and even longer answers.

So he settled for something easier, at least for now. 'Do you live anywhere close to Fhirdiad right now?' he texted back. 'Perhaps we could meet in person and discuss it; I think it might be easier like that.'

Felix would tease him for using a semi colon in a text, but Dimitri didn't know if he cared about what Felix thought right now. That said, he deleted the semi colon. Then he put it back.

And then he sent the message, put his phone on vibrate, and rolled over to get out of bed. Brunch sounded like a really good idea right now.

Dimitri didn't get a reply for several hours. It wasn't until four, when Dimitri had a bowl of dry cereal in his lap for an afternoon snack and his TV was turned to something he hadn't actually paid attention to for the last two hours, that he got another message from his old friend.

'Yeah, sure.' The reply was simple, giving nothing away - not even enthusiasm. Ah well, Dimitri could only hope that his response was what they were looking for.

'Good!' he replied. 'How about the City Garden Cafe, tomorrow at 2? Let me know if you need it changed at all, I'm completely free.'

'Nope that all sounds good to me,' came the reply. And that was that.

Dimitri smiled down at his phone. It had been a long, long time since he last saw some of his childhood friends, and none more than this one. 

Maybe, just maybe, he could be helpful. He didn't know why _he_ was the person they'd reached out to, out of anyone who could possibly help with something like this, but he wasn't going to complain. He was just happy to do whatever he could.

* * *

Dimitri was familiar enough with the cafe - it was one he often went to when meeting friends. That said, he wasn't so familiar with what his old friend looked like now, and he didn't want to head inside without being sure they'd arrived.

He scanned the streets over and over as he waited, trying not to get worried that they wouldn't show; he was early. There was no reason that they wouldn’t show up. It was all going to be fine.

Dimitri was proved right when he squinted slightly into the sunlight and saw a flash of red. Moments later, a familiar-ish face appeared. Dimitri glanced down at his phone, confirming the resemblance to his friend's ConnectMe profile; he had the right person.

He smiled, lifting his arm in a slightly awkward wave, and they picked up the pace immediately, jogging to cross the distance between them. "Hi!" they said, shooting Dimitri a small smile. Not the wide kind of one he remembered from their childhood together, but still achingly similar.

Up close, they looked undeniably different. Definitely healthier; their cheeks were rounder, and they moved with a little more confidence (or maybe he was imagining it - it had been a long time, but Dimitri distinctly remembered a slightly hunched form). Still, they looked... tired. Considering their conversation from before, Dimitri wasn’t surprised.

Just as they reached Dimitri's side, they stuck their hand out. Dimitri stared for a moment; were they doing this? An instant later, they pulled a face, letting out a chuckle. "Oops. Wrong social script." They scratched the back of their head, expression shifting into something a lot more awkward.

"I understand," Dimitri said, offering them a smile. He couldn't quite decide if they looked nervous or not.

"How about a hug instead, seeing as I'm meeting an old friend?" Their tone was undeniably joking, but their face stretched into what could only be described as a hopeful smile.

Dimitri didn't normally spend a lot of time hugging people, but... "Sure," he said. "Why not?" There were plenty of reasons why not, beginning with but not limited to how warm it was, but he didn't have the heart to say no.

Their arms circled Dimitri’s shoulders, pulling him close. They used to be great at hugging, and that was no less true with so many years on top of them. But they also clung... tightly. And maybe for a bit too long.

Still, Dimitri couldn't bring himself to mind all that much. They had to be going through a lot right now; they probably needed something like this, and he was happy to provide.

When they finally pulled away, Dimitri fixed them with another look. He didn't know how this was going to go down, but it needed to be asked - he was tired of skirting around it in his mind, and it would only help his friend too. "What should I call you?" he asked.

They shifted a little awkwardly. "Oh, yeah, right," they said. They glanced to the side, and when there was no one passing by them on the pavement (a mean feat in itself, just outside the city centre during the summer), they spoke again. "Syl works. I think." They dodged his gaze, looking down at the ground.

"Of course," Dimitri answered. Syl wasn't looking, but he tried to let the smile on his face seep into his voice. "Okay, Syl, let's go inside. It's far too warm out here."

Syl chuckled, but they seemed a little more relaxed as they headed into the cafe. They picked a place to sit, in a corner by the window, and settled down with their orders between them.

"Alright," Dimitri said, waiting until he'd finished his first mouthful of cake to get into it. "Do you want to talk about the reason for this reunion now, or should we wait a bit?"

Syl blinked. "Let's talk in a bit," they said eventually. They took a sip of their drink, and Dimitri waited as patiently as he could for their reply. "Tell me about what you've been doing first?"

Dimitri nodded. That wasn't really a surprise. "I just finished my last year at university," he said, though he got the feeling Syl already knew about that. "It was..." difficult, challenging, one of the worst times of his life, stressful to the point that it probably took years off his lifespan. "Interesting. A rough ride, to say the least, but I finally managed it."

Syl nodded. "I knew about that," they said. "Not- not that I didn't want to hear it from you, of course! I just. Saw it on ConnectMe, that's kind of what prompted me to message you."

"At five in the morning?"

Syl dipped one of their chips into their hot chocolate, and Dimitri tried his best not to be grossly offended by that. "Yeah. At five in the morning."

Dimitri just chuckled, unwilling to unpack everything in that statement - it seemed like Syl already knew exactly how that sounded. "I think I mostly liked being at university, but I'm glad it's over now. I had a lot on for the whole time - people to talk to, places to be, and I'm glad that I can just... sit back."

Of course, he didn't really intend to do nothing with this time, but he could pretend for a little while at least. "What are you doing now?" Syl asked. "If you know, of course."

"I know a little," Dimitri answered. He probably knew as much as he could right now. "I'm actually not heading in a particular direction right now - I decided to take a year out to give myself a break while preparing for a master's degree."

Syl let out a light laugh. It was a nice sound, but very different to the laugh Dimitri remembered from his childhood. "The perks of rich parents, right?"

"Ah," Dimitri said. Ah indeed. He hated having to talk about this one. "My... parents died a few years ago, actually."

"Oh _shit,"_ Syl replied, their face twisting into a frown. "Shit, I am so sorry I said that. I had no clue."

"It's alright," Dimitri answered with a wave of his hand. He was plenty used to reassuring people over this exact slip up by now - it happened more than you'd expect, even so many years on. "It was why I found the past few years so difficult, but it gets easier every day. I think."

"Still, I'm sorry," Syl replied, their frown morphing into something far more apologetic. "I should have been more careful."

Dimitri shook his head. "You were right in the first place," he said. He hoped this could be reassuring. "The money makes all of this a lot more possible, and I'm grateful for it. Their money... has always made things easier, and it's what they would have wanted."

Syl's expression turned bitter, something Dimitri recognised intimately. Strange; he'd never remembered Syl being a particularly bitter person, but the way it looked on their face was achingly familiar. "I wish my family made things easier for me," they said, their laugh holding a bitterness to rival their expression.

Dimitri pursed his lips. "Are your parents still... difficult?" He remembered them being strict, to say the least, and always Dimitri's least favourite hosts when it came to visiting each other.

"Yeah," Syl said, pointedly not meeting his eyes as they dangled another chip over their mouth. "They still haven't gotten used to having a bi kid. I don't imagine that... this-" They gestured around vaguely, mostly indicating themselves. "-will help matters at all."

Dimitri nodded. "Would you, ah, like to talk about that now?" He kept his voice gentle, hopeful he wouldn't spook them.

This time, though, Syl nodded, sucking in a deep breath. "Yeah," they said. "Yeah, I think I'm ready."

"Good," Dimitri answered, leaning forwards slightly. He was not in any way 'qualified' to deal with something like this, but he also had a concerning amount of experience talking people through something like this considering his age. "So, why do you think you're trans?"

Syl spluttered, leaning backwards. Dimitri mirrored their movements, giving them as much space as he could. "I- uh- straight with the big questions, huh?"

"Of course," Dimitri answered. "The big questions are important."

Syl waved a hand in front of their face. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, I just-" They took another deep breath. "I feel... wrong. When people look at me. And when they talk about me. And my _name,_ ugh. And- being my parents' _daughter,_ and... you know when people go online, and they pretend to be someone they're not?"

Dimitri just about managed to hold back from asking Syl if they'd catfished someone while trying to sort through feelings about gender, but he held back. He didn't know how they’d feel about a joke right now. "I know of the concept," he answered instead.

Syl nodded. "Well. I did that. And once I- told someone I was a man. And it felt. Good? And I couldn't stop thinking about it." They put a hand in front of their face, shielding themselves from view.

Dimitri just nodded. "I can't tell you you're trans," he said, and Syl's movement stuttered. _"But_ this is only the case because that's something you have to decide for yourself. If you want me to call you a man, or something else, then I'll do so for as long as you want."

Syl's shoulders rose for a moment, and they scrubbed at their eyes. "Hey, Dima," they said, a tinge of something that definitely sounded like tears leaking into their voice. "Quit it." Dimitri waited, letting them collect themselves a little before they squared their shoulders, took a sip of their hot chocolate, and opened their mouth once more. "I think I'm a man."

"Of course," Dimitri replied. "You're a man then." Syl sniffled again, and Dimitri gave him another chance to put himself together before he kept talking. "Ah, my apologies!" he said. "It was rather rude of me to invite my friend all the way here, talk about myself, and then not even ask him what he's been up to."

Syl's eyes widened for a moment, until his face settled into a tentative smile. "Yeah, about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Dimitri had a pretty good idea what he was about to hear. "I nearly finished my degree—art, if you were wondering—but then I had to take a break for, uh, mental health reasons. And that was two years ago now."

"I think that makes sense," Dimitri said, carefully eating another mouthful of cake. He'd never quite perfected the response that would make people genuinely believe that he would never judge someone for needing a break, but he hoped the message was clear enough. "I hope you're doing better now."

Syl shrugged. "I don't know if I am," he said. And maybe Dimitri hadn't known him as well as he could have back when they were kids, but he could tell there was an honesty in Syl's voice there that hit home in a way he hadn't expected it to. "But... I think maybe if I work all of this stuff out about myself, it might help me get back on the right track?"

His tone was undeniably questioning, and when he looked up at Dimitri he just wanted to pull him into another hug and let Syl cling on for as long as he wanted to. Dimitri could barely imagine not understanding himself for so long, at least not in this way. "I hope so," he answered. He knew that being assured in this area could _help,_ but it definitely wouldn't solve all of Syl's problems.

Syl looked at him again, his mouth half open, and then his phone pinged on the table. He glanced down at it and grimaced. "My parents," he explained, already moving to stuff his phone in his pocket. "They want me home, so I gotta go. Can we-" His voice broke, slightly hesitant. "-talk about this again?"

"Of course," Dimitri assured, and Syl replied with a blindingly bright smile and a wave before he breezed out of the cafe in a single, graceful motion.

Dimitri felt a little like he'd been hit by a truck, but he wasn't sure why. The whole encounter felt like... the next chapter in a half-finished story. He had no idea what came next.

* * *

Syl messaged again only a few days later, and together they agreed that he'd come to visit Dimitri in his home, away from the possibility of prying ears. Even if they were somewhere where no one knew Syl, there was no way to ensure that he felt he could speak openly.

Honestly, the same might even be true of Dimitri's home, but he had to take that gamble. There weren't really any other options.

Syl still seemed nervous when Dimitri sat him down in his living room. The only buffer between him and the mortifying ordeal of gender was a cup of tea, and he got the feeling that it wouldn't quite be enough to put him at ease.

"You said you still wanted to talk about what your feelings could mean," Dimitri said, hoping he didn't sound too much like his therapist. He probably did, but if Syl minded he hadn't said so just yet.

"Mmhmm," Syl replied, stirring his tea. He'd been stirring it for two minutes now; Dimitri got the feeling that he didn't want to talk.

"Should I tell you about my experiences first?" A nod, which Dimitri took as the clearest sign he could get to continue. "Obviously my experiences are very different to yours. I've known for..." Goddess, he'd known for fifteen years now. Time passed so quickly. "A long time now. My parents listened to and supported me, I was a man in most ways that were possible by the time I turned ten."

In truth, it was a little embarrassing to recount it. It was a story he'd told a lot, and the more he spoke it, the more fake it sounded. "I've had hormonal treatments and surgeries. In some ways, my transition is done, and..."

"And I'm still in the 'oh god oh fuck' stage," Syl finished. The laugh he let out was light, but it didn't actually sound like he found anything funny. Syl just took a sip of his tea and kept going. "I think I'm still processing the idea that it's not just common or garden low self esteem, you know?"

He laughed again, and this time it sounded bitter. Dimitri was used to these kinds of jokes from Syl - he'd always been that way, especially as the cool, older kid who looked after their little band of gremlins. At the time, he hadn't realised exactly what that could signal; maybe he was too young, or just didn't have enough experience in the world, but now?

Now, he understood exactly what it meant, and he wasn't going to let it pass without some kind of acknowledgement. Syl deserved to be taken seriously. "I know," he replied, and Syl's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sometimes people hate themselves and how they look, and that's it. But sometimes it's..." He gestured into the air. "Gender."

"Gender," Syl echoed solemnly. He cracked a small smile.

"Gender is a mess," Dimitri declared.

Syl made an affirmative noise, fingers fumbling a little around his mug. "From there, I started thinking a lot about how the things I disliked about myself were mostly... it was the way other people looked at and talked about me. We talked about the whole... dating app thing, but obviously I wasn't just testing stuff. I knew- I know about. Trans stuff."

"You're an art student," Dimitri guessed, cracking a small smile.

Syl nodded. "I'm an art student, so I know trans people. I knew you, too. So that had me questioning, and at least I knew _what_ to look into. So I did, and I just- well, you know what the narrative is around this kind of stuff, right? It's all about trans kids, and how the youth need to act quickly to have a good life, and... I thought I missed my chance?"

Dimitri nodded, taking another sip of his tea to let Syl continue. "I thought I was fake, too. Because even when it's about teenagers, it's always about like- using bathrooms. Getting haircuts. And I _like_ my hair." He reached up to take a long strand between his fingers, and Dimitri watched the light play over it. He'd always thought that Syl had beautiful hair, and that was no less true now. "It made me feel like maybe this was all just something else entirely."

"Lots of men have long hair," Dimitri pointed out. To prove his point, he reached his left hand back and clumsily pulled his hair tie out, letting it fall around his shoulders. "You would never say I was false for the length of my hair, so you shouldn't apply the same standard to yourself."

"I know," Syl said, his voice barely more than a grumble. Still, it was audible in the quiet of Dimitri's home, and it stayed suspended between them until Syl broke the silence once more. "But it's... hard, I guess. They're difficult feelings to grapple with when you're _not_ spiralling."

Dimitri nodded. "But a little easier to fight against now?" he checked.

Syl smiled slightly. "A bit, yeah," he answered. "Besides, the spiral invited doomscrolling, and that was when I saw your pictures and just thought- fuck it. What did I have to lose from asking? So I asked."

Dimitri smiled a little wider. "I'm very glad you did," he said. And, because his mind was always at least a little traitorous, he asked the fateful question. "Are you glad?"

Syl pulled a face. "I don't know yet," he admitted. Dimitri nodded. "I..." He gestured at nothing, wincing when a tiny splash of tea hit his finger. "Everything just happens so much. But I hope I can be glad about it soon."

"I'll do everything I can," Dimitri said. He couldn't promise to make this all better, because so far he felt pretty sure that he'd only made Syl feel _more,_ but he could at least try. "If I can make this worth it, that's all I want."

Syl offered him a slightly watery smile. "I'm sure you can."

The words sparked a warm feeling in Dimitri's chest, and he clutched onto it with everything he had. He could do this; Syl believed in him.

* * *

"I need a name," Syl announced, the moment he entered the flat that day. Dimitri blinked, thinking for a moment as he watched Syl toe off his shoes (crocs, to Dimitri's mild horror and amusement) at the side of the door.

By the time he actually remembered to close the door, Syl had already made himself at home on the sofa, leaving Dimitri rushing into the kitchen for the biscuit tin. "Is Syl just temporary, then?" he asked.

Syl nodded. "I mean, it's _fine,"_ he said, "but I just sort of thought of it on a whim as something... neutral. Rather than something that's me."

"I understand," Dimitri said. "Did you have any ideas for new names?"

"Nope," Syl said, popping the p. "Nothing too feminine. Probably something that sort of sounds like the old one? It sounds really inconvenient to get used to responding to a completely different name."

"It's not too bad," Dimitri said. "It depends on the person - you don't have to pick a completely different name, of course, though I did. It's nice to, but it does take some getting used to."

Syl nodded. "I can't be bothered to learn a new name, especially because I might not get to hear it a lot for a while."

Dimitri grimaced; his parents, again. He knew that it was likely going to be an issue, but he hoped that they'd at least afford Syl that kind of dignity. "If you want something that can be shortened to Syl, would you be more likely to hear that from other people too? Rather than your deadname."

"Dead...? Oh, right." Syl ran one hand through his hair, brushing a little away from his eyes. "Yeah, similar enough that I can ask people to call me Syl. As a totally-not-trans nickname." He chuckled. "How did you pick yours?"

Dimitri paused. "I did it with my parents," he said. "I said I wanted to change it, and we talked through the different options. Dimitri was something they'd considered naming me before I was born."

It was nice, in a way, to have something from them that was a part of him for the rest of his days, ingrained into every part of himself. Something that wasn't the scars from the accident or the money they left behind.

But it didn't help to think about that, so Dimitri tried to bring his mind away from it. Syl shot him a wry smile that looked almost knowing. "I probably won't do that," Syl said, "so I should probably just pick myself. This is about me, not them."

"Absolutely," Dimitri said. "So, do you have any ideas now?" He could suggest things, but he wanted to see if Syl would come up with something himself - if he wanted this to be his decision, then that was what it should be.

"Syl...vester?" Syl pulled a face and shook his head. He paused for a moment, then let out a giggle. "Sylvanus."

"No."

Syl spluttered. "Gosh, Dimitri, what could be wrong with Sylv _anus?_ Does it have too much of a… swell to it?"

"Please, Syl." He would personally pass away if Syl named himself Sylvanus, especially with that look on his face as he said it.

"Alright, alright," Syl said, leaning over to pat Dimitri on the shoulder. "Not Sylvanus. How about... Sylvain?" He smiled as he spoke, and Dimitri followed suit.

"I think it fits you," he said. "What do you think?"

"Better than the old one, and much better than anything my parents could dream up," Sylvain said, letting out a laugh. It was the bitter one again; a laugh Dimitri was getting uncomfortably acquainted with. "I don't want to end up with a name like my brother's." He made a motion like he was throwing up, mouthing 'Miklan' like it physically pained him. "My parents have really bad taste in names."

When Sylvain spoke, Dimitri couldn't help but remember the joking way he'd spoken before. This was clearly a sore spot, but he didn't know how - he hadn't remembered Miklan being particularly nice when they were children, but he'd also stayed far away from Sylvain's "weird little friends".

"How is Miklan?" Dimitri asked, hoping that was the right thing to say. If he was unlucky, Miklan was probably dead, but maybe that was an awkward conversation that they needed to get out of the way anyway.

Sylvain only grimaced. "Yikes, Dima, you do _not_ want to know," he said. And then he bit down particularly hard on his biscuit, watching with something that could mostly be described as regret as the rest of it crumbled into his hands.

Dimitri took that as his cue to leave the conversation where it was; he didn't think Sylvain would appreciate it if he pressed, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make him feel unwelcome. But try as he might to brighten the mood a little, to draw Sylvain's attention back to something brighter and more optimistic, he couldn't help but feel a shadow hanging over them for the rest of the afternoon.

There was a lot more to his reunion with Sylvain than sunny afternoons and some fairly light discussion about gender. Dimitri could only hope that what little he felt like he was doing actually _wasn't_ just surface level. He didn't know how he felt about the idea that maybe he wasn't helping Sylvain at all.

* * *

"Wait, are you serious?" Sylvain looked at him with equal parts joy and disbelief painted all over his face. His hands twisted over each other in his lap.

"Of course," Dimitri said. It was only an idle comment Sylvain made, but it was one Dimitri recognised well - he hated the way that people looked at his chest in a way he'd never quite hated it before. Like he was conscious they were seeing something he'd never thought twice about when he thought he was a woman.

"You just... have binders sitting around?"

Dimitri nodded. "I had surgery a while back, but you're meant to wear them for a bit afterwards too, it helps with the healing process. And then I meant to give them away to people, but I never quite got round to it. You're welcome to try them."

Sylvain grinned, his eyes narrowing partially in joy and partially in something that looked like curiosity. "Did we... have the same tit size?" Oh; he was looking at Dimitri's chest.

Dimitri felt his face heat up. "I was- probably larger than you." He felt that maybe clarifying that he _hadn't_ stared at Sylvain's boobs, he just really had been quite large, would only dig him into a deeper hole. He could _imagine_ the sound of Sylvain's laughter, and then his answering blush, and- he needed to move on. "So it might not bind that fantastically, especially because they're well worn, but it's better than nothing."

"Anything is better than nothing," Sylvain said, practically vibrating in his seat. This was definitely a feeling Dimitri recognised, back from when he was in his early teens and things started to get just a bit too much. He leapt out of his chair when Dimitri moved, following him to the bedroom. He hovered in the doorway for just long enough for Dimitri to notice, and he waved him in.

"There's nothing incriminating in here," Dimitri said, presuming that Sylvain wasn't going to look under his bed, where all the laundry he hadn't done was piled away from prying eyes. There was a cup on his bedside table, but it had probably only been there for two weeks or so.

Sylvain nodded, tentatively stepping inside. He looked around for a moment, and when Dimitri opened up the drawer with his binders in, his gaze focused resolutely on that. "That's it?" he asked. Dimitri nodded. "It looks... kinda normal?"

Dimitri laughed. "They're meant to," he said. "Some binders come in bright colours, but I usually just had very plain ones. They wash better."

Sylvain nodded, reaching his hands out to take the offered item. Dimitri tried to tactically ignore the way his hands shook just a little. "And this is just- I put it on?"

"Yes," Dimitri said. "It can be a little tight to get on and a tiny bit awkward, so don't force it, but it should be fine."

Still, Sylvain hesitated. "And it won't fuck anything up?" he asked. "I saw some bad stuff."

"Everyone's seen some bad stuff," Dimitri replied. He'd seen _plenty_ of horror stories about binding, but nothing of the sort had ever happened to him. "Just be careful - as careful as you can be, because it _can_ cause damage or hurt, but I'm right here. Nothing terrible will happen."

"My tits won't deflate like balloons the moment I put it on," Sylvain said, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. Dimitri laughed with him, but hoped Sylvain had caught the serious part of that too: he was perfectly safe.

Sylvain shot him one last smile and then disappeared out of the door, heading to the bathroom. Dimitri waited just beyond the door, listening out for any sign that something had gone wrong. There were a couple of grunts from behind the door, but nothing too concerning. Within minutes, Sylvain emerged again.

"I never noticed that your bathroom doesn't have a mirror," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. A moment later, his fingers moved to the hem of the binder, worrying it slightly. He smoothed his hands over the surface once, twice. "Can I- in your bedroom?" There were the beginnings of a soft smile working into the edges of Sylvain's lips.

"Of course," Dimitri answered, following Sylvain back to the room.

Sylvain stopped short in front of the mirror, his mouth wide open. Then it split into a wide grin, bigger and more genuine than Dimitri had seen from him in a long time - maybe ever.

He turned to Dimitri, eyes still wide. "It's..." He twisted around, admiring his mostly flat chest in the mirror. Dimitri doubted that he was imagining the way Sylvain stood a little straighter, his shoulders less rounded over. "It worked?"

Dimitri smiled back at him, a reflection of Sylvain's joy. "It worked," he agreed, and Sylvain laughed. _Properly_ laughed, like there was real joy bubbling up inside his chest. There was no bitterness, no cover - just light, and life, and Dimitri couldn't help but join in.

* * *

"I think I want to tell someone else," Sylvain said softly. Dimitri knew there was something on his mind - he'd been a little twitchy for the whole afternoon, and he kept drifting off into his thoughts. He wasn't normally like that when they spent time together.

Dimitri didn't need to ask to know what it was Sylvain wanted to tell someone about. "If you feel ready to, then that's good," he said.

Sylvain chuckled. "I'm not sure I feel ready to," he admitted.

"Well, I can help you be exactly that, then."

In reply, Sylvain offered him a watery smile. "I want to tell my parents. I-" He shook his head once, his hair bouncing against his shoulders. "They're not the best. I've mentioned it before. And I don't know what they're going to say, which _really_ wigs me out, but I don't think staying in the closet is an option. Not anymore."

Dimitri could imagine the feeling. Discovering and properly exploring the truth... pretending it wasn't there, evident within yourself, was more painful than it had any right to be. "If they react poorly, there could be a lot of consequences - stability, money, or simply preserving your relationship with them. If those things are worth a lot to you, then you should consider waiting."

Sometimes, when he was younger, he regretted how early he spoke to his parents about his gender. He said things he meant at the time but couldn't mean later- hurtful things he'd never wanted them to hear. Sylvain was older, could probably articulate it better than a child, but that didn't mean it would go better. Potential consequences were important, and he wanted Sylvain to have as few regrets about this as possible.

"I mean- I guess-" Sylvain ran one hand through the length of his hair, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. "I... if they can't take this, if they don't want it, then maybe I... don't want to preserve my relationship with my parents? I think? I don't know."

He shook his head and returned his gaze resolutely to the cup of tea in front of him. Dimitri gave him a moment, then continued. "That's alright," he said. "The most important thing is your happiness, and if that outweighs anything else for you - as it should - then what we need to do instead is work out what you'll do if it _does_ all go south."

Sylvain shrugged, and Dimitri could recognise that wry smile from anywhere. "Guess I'll die?"

"No," Dimitri answered. It was exactly the response he'd expected, of course, but that didn't mean he was going to accept it. He couldn't get Sylvain to meet his eyes, but he could trust that he had his attention. "You will not die. No matter what, that will not come to pass."

"You don't need to take it so seriously, Dima," Sylvain said, the fragility in his tone telling Dimitri that yes, he absolutely did have to take it that seriously. "It was just a figure of speech."

"If you're really worried about that, we should perhaps take a different approach," Dimitri said. He hoped his frown didn't look too disappointed to Sylvain. "I do not want you to put yourself at risk. That's not worth anything at all - it would just be suffering for the sake of it, and wouldn't give you any joy."

Sylvain shrugged. "I'm really not bothered," he said, but he _sounded_ bothered. He wouldn't have brought it up at all if he wasn't bothered - he would have told his parents the moment he knew, maybe even the moment he suspected.

So he did care, and Dimitri had to work out how to get Sylvain to _let_ himself care. "Even if they swear never to speak to you again?" he asked. He didn't know if Sylvain's parents would do that, but... it wasn't unheard of.

"I will happily boot them straight from my life and deal with the consequences as they come," Sylvain answered, shrugging again. "But if you have any good ideas about how to lessen the consequences before they come, I'm all ears."

Dimitri smiled, and Sylvain smiled tentatively back. "If it all goes south, I can be your back up plan," he answered. Sylvain's eyebrows shot up. "Before then, you have to pack a bag of your things - for overnight stay, maybe for a long weekend, but nothing that could communicate that you intend to leave permanently. That's for if your parents need to cool down and you want to be far away from them when you do that."

Sylvain nodded. "And if I need to do that?"

"Then you come straight here," Dimitri answered firmly. "And then you stay. For as long as you need."

As he spoke, he lifted his gaze to meet Sylvain's, hoping his sincerity struck through. By the looks of things, it did. "Thanks, Dimitri." His eyes were warm and bright, shining with tears. "Thank you for _everything._ You're too good."

Dimitri blinked, a thick feeling building up in his throat. Sylvain’s eyes widened, his mouth already opening to apologise. "I’m sorry," Dimitri said, bringing one hand up to wipe at his eyes. "I'm just- glad."

Sylvain grinned through his tears, shifting over on the sofa to move closer to Dimitri. "Could I get a hug?" he asked.

Dimitri nodded, adjusting the angle of his body to wrap his arms around Sylvain. His head slotted in next to Dimitri's neck, and he gripped tightly - not so tightly as he did in that first reunion, but tightly enough that Dimitri could feel him shaking. "It's going to be alright, Sylvain," Dimitri said. "Everything is going to be okay."

* * *

Dimitri was not surprised when he was jolted from his book to a knock on the door. His phone hadn't gone off, but he knew who it was.

In truth, he hadn't really been able to concentrate on his book all that well. Sylvain had messaged him that morning to say that he was going to talk to his parents at the end of the day - at dinner, probably, if he could get the words out.

It was past ten, and he hadn't heard a thing since. Dimitri _tried_ not to worry, but it was difficult when there was complete silence.

Now, he knew that he was right to worry. Sylvain looked like shit.

Logically, that should have put Dimitri's heart a little more at ease. Hearing from him was good - not hearing from him suggested something much worse, but his presence here... well, it only could have gone poorly. He was _safe,_ and he would be for as long as Dimitri had anything to say about it, but that was it.

Sylvain offered him a small smile at the door, his eyes downcast. He didn't say anything as Dimitri gestured into the flat. Dimitri kept one hand on his arm, carefully watching the way Sylvain moved. He didn't flinch at the touch against his arm, nor did he seem uncomfortable with a gentle push against his shoulder when Dimitri suggested he sit down on the sofa.

He sat stiffly, but not gingerly. If Dimitri had it right, he could hope that Sylvain wasn't in any pain. At least, not any physical pain.

Sylvain's continued silence as Dimitri made him a cup of tea, pressing the warm mug of chamomile into his hands once it was done, told him everything he needed to know. He didn't need to ask to put the pieces together - something went wrong when Sylvain told them, and he definitely wouldn't be going back home that evening.

If Dimitri had anything to say about it, Sylvain wouldn't go back to them ever. But that wasn't his call to make, and the protectiveness that surged up within him could be used in a far better way.

"I have some food, if you'd like to eat something," he offered. It was late, but he hadn't eaten anything himself. He hadn't wanted to cook when he was waiting for a text from Sylvain at any moment.

Sylvain shook his head. He took another sip of his tea, and Dimitri waited in silence for a short while. Just in case. "I'm fine without. Thanks."

But it wasn't a refusal; Dimitri hoped he knew what that meant. He went back to the kitchen, putting a couple of tupperwares in the microwave. It was simple, and he couldn't guarantee it would taste good at all, but it was food; food Sylvain probably needed right now.

He was right - when Dimitri set the food down in front of Sylvain, he took it, gingerly eating a few bites. And then a few more, and then Dimitri tried to stop glancing up at him between mouthfuls of his own plate, content to leave Sylvain in peace.

Eventually, the hour got late enough and Sylvain's movements slowed enough that Dimitri knew it was time to say something. Anything. "Do you want to go home tonight?" he asked. He knew what the answer _should_ be, and even if Sylvain gave the one he didn't want to hear, he'd try and convince him otherwise. There was no good in him going back when he was like this.

Sylvain's fork stilled over his half empty plate. "Yeah," he whispered. He sounded awful, still. "But I won't be."

Dimitri let out a sigh. He knew what that meant, clear as day. It only had one meaning, and it broke his heart every time he heard it.

Sometimes, this kind of thing made him think of his parents. Why was it them who had to go, when people like Sylvain's parents remained?

"You're welcome to stay for as long as you need," Dimitri said, trying to make it sound casual, trying to make it sound serious. He didn't know how to do both at the same time, but Sylvain needed it. Deserved it. "But you're especially welcome to stick around tonight. Are you okay sleeping on the sofa?"

Sylvain patted the cushions next to him, then nodded. "Thank you," he said. He sounded so _quiet._ Dimitri hated it.

"Do you need anything else?" Any response to the thanks itself seemed pointless - he wanted to say that anyone would do it, but knew it wasn't true.

Sylvain shook his head. "I'll... be fine," he said. Dimitri couldn't help but doubt it. "I think I just need rest right now."

"Of course." Dimitri wished he could fill the silence with idle chatter, maybe even get Sylvain to smile again, but he knew he couldn't. Trying would only make it more awkward.

Instead, he stood from his seat, took the plates into the kitchen, and grabbed a spare blanket on his way back. Sylvain had already settled down, his head against one of the cushions and his eyes squeezed shut. They fluttered open when Dimitri laid the blanket over him, and Dimitri opted not to mention the way his eyes glistened with tears.

He bent down and pressed a kiss to Sylvain's forehead. "Goodnight, Sylvain," he said.

Perhaps it was a little awkward, but Sylvain needed the comfort more than anything right now. "Goodnight, Dimitri.”

Dimitri ignored the hiccuping sob in his voice too, and closed his door to block out the sound of Sylvain's quiet crying. He just wished he could offer Sylvain the dignity of real privacy to process all of this; but he couldn't, and this was the next best thing he could manage.

He could only hope it would be enough.

* * *

Dimitri was vaguely aware, over the next few days, that Sylvain tried to contact his parents multiple times. Sylvain disappeared into the bathroom for hours at a time, and Dimitri could only pretend that he didn't hear the terse conversations through the too-thin walls.

He could gather one thing in particular, though, even without hearing what Sylvain's parents said - they weren't listening to him. Each argument seemed to get more fierce, and Sylvain was more subdued after each one. Dimitri almost wanted to suggest that he stop talking to them, at least for a while, but it wasn't his call to make, and Sylvain clearly wanted to salvage something with them.

Dimitri probably should have predicted that it would all come to a head at some point. Sylvain was napping on the couch after a particularly bad argument, utterly exhausted after whatever had been said. Dimitri had heard his returning arguments through the walls; it was vicious.

What he was _expecting_ when there was a knock on the door was to open it to one of his neighbours; maybe the woman from downstairs whose water tended to shut off on its own. Dimitri usually helped her, so it wouldn’t be unusual.

What he hadn't anticipated was a different, but equally familiar, face to be on the other side of the door, scrunched up in anger. Sylvain's father looked pretty much the same as the last time Dimitri saw him several years ago, but now with even more unpleasantness lining his expression.

"Are you _Dimitri_ Blaiddyd?" he asked, as if Dimitri hadn't seen him every other day as a child.

Dimitri nodded. "And you are Sylvain's father," he said. The man frowned. "I would suggest you go away, unless you wish to speak to your _son."_

In truth, he doubted that he'd accept it; not after the argument that had barely ended. Even if he reacted well, Dimitri would never let the man in just like that - again, it was Sylvain's choice.

He was correct. "I am here to speak to my _daughter,_ Syl-"

Dimitri closed the door in his face. He breathed in, and then out, before sliding the bolt across for good measure. He leaned against it with a sigh, trying to calm his breathing before he went back into the living room; he could hear Sylvain stirring, and it was probably good to give him a moment.

Then the door vibrated slightly, and Dimitri jumped away. Sylvain's father was slamming on the door, and only a moment later, the shouting started.

Dimitri didn't want to think about the things he heard from the man's mouth, but more than anything he didn't want to think about what Sylvain might think when hearing them. He hurried back into the living room, and sure enough, Sylvain now sat bolt upright.

"Dimitri?" he asked. There was a terrifying look on his face, something Dimitri couldn't quite discern. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. "Is he-"

Another round of shouting cut him off, and Sylvain and Dimitri winced in tandem. Dimitri nodded, sitting down at Sylvain's side and opening his arms to him.

Sylvain didn't hesitate, shuffling over and slotting himself in the gap. Dimitri held him as close as he dared, trying to be as still as he could. He didn't know if it helped, but he didn't think he could do any more either, beyond closing his eyes against the onslaught and trying not to listen, trying to drown it out with the sound of the TV playing something neither of them cared about.

He didn't go away. Dimitri didn't keep track of the time, but Sylvain’s father must have gone through the same round of insults at least three times before his phone pinged, lighting up with a message from one of his neighbours. 'Would you like us to call the police?' it read. 'It doesn't sound like he's going away.'

Dimitri glanced back towards the door, catching sight of movement beyond the curtains. Then, Sylvain's father started rapping on the window, making both of them jump again. 'I'm very sorry for the bother,' he replied, 'but I'll try and deal with him again now. If it doesn't work, I'll call the police myself, but thank you for offering.'

Dimitri did not want to call the police, but he trusted the idea of someone calling _for_ him even less. If it came to that, all he could do was rely on the fact that he passed and was being harassed by someone much angrier than him - for now, what he needed to do was try and end this before that happened.

Dimitri opened the door just a fraction. Sylvain's father stopped in his tracks, half-formed words halting on his lips. His face was far redder than it had been when Dimitri closed the door. "Mr Gautier," he said, plastering the most neutral look he could manage on his face. He wouldn't dignify someone like this with a smile. "If you do not leave, I will be calling the police. Imminently."

Sylvain's father bristled. "On what grounds?" he demanded. Now Dimitri could hear him clearly, he could hear the crack to his voice; good. If he hurt his throat abusing his son like this, all the better. "You're corrupting my daughter. Let me in and I will set this straight."

"Your son is twenty three years old," Dimitri answered. His voice was shaking, but he didn't think he could do anything about that. He wasn't even afraid for himself; just Sylvain. "He is an adult, and has been for five years. No police officer in their right mind would take your side, Mr Gautier, so please vacate the premises. This is a private residence and you are disturbing my neighbours."

Mr Gautier's eye twitched. He looked between Dimitri and the stairs. He tapped his fingers against his crossed arms, then moved to put them at his sides, his fists clenched. "Good evening," he said, and it was all Dimitri could do to not let out a sigh of relief right there. "See that you don't regret threatening me here today."

"I won't," Dimitri answered, closing the door. When he heard Sylvain's father turn to leave, he bolted up the door once more and almost sprinted into the living room, collapsing against Sylvain's side.

"You're shaking," Sylvain observed quietly. His voice quivered as he spoke, but Dimitri wasn't going to point that out.

Dimitri nodded. Sylvain was a warm, steady presence at his side, and he needed that right now. He didn't think he'd ever experienced something quite like that before. "Are you going to be alright?" he asked.

Sylvain was quiet for a long moment. "Probably," he answered eventually. He sighed. "At some point. Maybe a long way in the future. It's okay to hold on to something like that, right?"

"Of course."

More silence. "Dimitri?"

"Mm?"

"Can you stay?" Sylvain asked. "Just until I fall asleep? I don't-" He shook his head. His hands were still shaking, as were Dimitri's. The echoes of Mr Gautier's shouting still rattled in his bones.

"I'll stay," he answered, and Sylvain breathed a sigh of relief. Dimitri slid off the sofa, turning the main light off and settling down on the floor. He leaned against the sofa and closed his eyes, intending to rest them until it seemed like Sylvain had fallen asleep.

Dimitri woke early the next morning with a crick in his neck and a blanket draped over his body. Sylvain slept peacefully on the sofa, his head only a short distance from Dimitri's. Carefully, Dimitri folded the blanket on the ground and snuck to bed, keen to get a few more hours of good rest.

Neither of them mentioned it when they were both conscious again. Dimitri didn't mind.

* * *

Dimitri was sitting at the little table in the kitchen when Sylvain emerged that day, pushing his hair out of his face. He shuffled over to the cupboards without so much as a good morning, and that was when Dimitri realised; he looked uncomfortable. Awkward. He was hunched over a little in a way that was intimately familiar.

"Are you feeling alright, Sylvain?" he asked. Sylvain whirled around, a startled expression on his face. Dimitri offered him an encouraging smile.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Sylvain said, pulling his shirt away from his chest; another very familiar gesture. Dimitri stared at him, hoping the message would get across. Sylvain sighed. "Yeah, okay, you got me. I didn't... bring a lot of clothes with me." Dimitri had noticed; there were only so many times he could do the laundry without noticing the lack of variety in Sylvain's wardrobe.

"Do you dislike the ones you have?"

Sylvain grimaced. "Sort of?" he said. "Most of my clothes are just- I mean, my past dress sense was kind of..." Sylvain gestured at his shirt, and then his shorts. They didn't leave much to the imagination. "Thotty? I guess? That's what I was going for, but I don't know if I vibe with that anymore."

Dimitri nodded. He honestly had no idea how Sylvain used to present himself, but he hadn't even considered that he didn't like it anymore. He'd seemed so at ease recently. "We could go to get things that match you better," he suggested.

"I can pay," Sylvain said immediately, his face lighting up.

Dimitri shook his head. If Sylvain really _wanted_ to pay, then that was fine, but… he was the one who suggested shopping, so he should pay. "I have plenty of money," he said. "I would rather you kept some. So you can have some money of your own."

In truth, Dimitri didn't know anything about being poor. Sylvain hadn't either, not until the last few weeks. But what Dimitri _did_ know was that he didn't want Sylvain to feel trapped by virtue of not having any money to spare; it was the same situation he'd been in with his parents, after all.

"Right," Sylvain said. He looked a little more at ease, but there was still something off. His fingers tapped at the edge of the table, drumming out a nervous pattern. "About that. I feel like I should, I don't know... check I'm not wasting your time and money with this?" At that, he gestured towards himself. "You know. You have a life! And I'm..."

"You're deserving of happiness," Dimitri said firmly. It felt like a cliche, but he got the impression Sylvain hadn't heard it all that often. "And that happiness is worth all the time and money in the world. I consider it a privilege to be of any help to you at all."

"Woah, woah there Dimitri," Sylvain said. He blinked once, twice, and then brought one hand up to scrub at his eyes. "Let's not go there right now. Thanks, and- yeah. You can pay for the clothes, if you want."

"I do want to," Dimitri confirmed. "Do you want to do it now?"

 _"Now_ now?" Sylvain asked, and Dimitri nodded. "Huh. I suppose neither of us have anything to do. Sure." There was still a bit of hesitation in his voice, and Dimitri looked him up and down.

"Would you like to borrow some of my clothes for shopping?" he asked. Sylvain looked down at himself and nodded. 

It was fairly easy to find something suitable - even after getting top surgery, Dimitri had a strong preference for baggy clothing. Still, when faced with the prospect of going out, Sylvain pulled a binder out of the drawers too.

"Is it safe to bind when doing this?" he asked, voice a little hesitant.

"Perfectly safe," Dimitri said, and Sylvain smiled, looking a little more at ease. "But if you don't mind taking a little longer in changing rooms, you'll need to take it off too."

"Yeah, for breaks and stuff, I know."

"Not just for breaks," Dimitri continued with a chuckle. "If you only wear a binder while shopping, you'll end up with nothing you can wear around the house. It won't fit." 

Sylvain laughed, clear and bright, and Dimitri couldn't help the feeling that had his heart seizing in his chest at the sound. "Sounds like you have personal experience with that, Dima," he said.

Dimitri laughed. "Yes," he said, thinking back to the jacket bought at age fifteen that he'd never managed to button closed when he wasn't wearing a binder. "Learn from my mistakes."

"Of course," Sylvain said, pulling on a cap just outside the door. It did little to hide the length of his hair, and in truth Dimitri couldn't see him passing in the shopping centre - the last thing he wanted to be asked was if he was there with his girlfriend. So, for good measure, he went to the box just inside his desk and pulled out one of his old pronoun badges, pinning it to a spot just off the centre of Sylvain's hat.

"There we go," Dimitri said, and Sylvain offered him a small smile. "Now, let's get you some clothes that aren't 'thotty.'" As he spoke, he locked eyes with Sylvain directly, and Sylvain burst into another round of laughter.

"You can't just say things like that with a straight face," he complained, nearly doubled over.

"Say what?" Dimitri asked, his smile as innocent as he could make it; it only made Sylvain laugh harder, which was exactly what he'd planned.

Shopping for Sylvain, it turned out, was not particularly difficult. They wandered around the shopping centre at their own pace, picking out various items as they went. Sylvain wasn't an awfully picky person, though how much he liked something seemed to be linked to the price tags (and if that was what made him comfortable enough to have Dimitri pay, that was fine with him).

They ended up with a few pairs of jeans (without the seemingly pre-ripped holes that Sylvain's existing pair had), plaid shirts, plain t-shirts, a couple of light jumpers, and a jacket. Looking at the selection, Dimitri didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or just pat Sylvain on the back; he'd been shopping with people buying gender-affirming clothes for the first time several times before, and Sylvain’s choices were pretty much the same.

In fact, it was all going well until the time came for Sylvain to actually try the clothes on. Twice, he decided that actually they should put everything back and go to a different shop instead, because he 'didn't like' the selection in front of him. When it got to the third time, and Sylvain was starting to shuffle from one foot to the other, sneaking glances he thought Dimitri couldn't see at the changing room (singular, in this much smaller shop), Dimitri put his foot down.

"You need to try those on," he said. Sylvain jumped, and Dimitri offered him an encouraging smile, receiving a decidedly nervous one in return. "The changing room isn't gendered, and these clothes barely are either. You will be fine, and I'll be right here."

"In the changing room?" Sylvain asked, tipping Dimitri a wink in what seemed to be his best attempt to get Dimitri to combust on the spot.

He just about managed to keep a straight face as he shook his head. "I'll be outside," he said. "Now go on."

"Fine, fine," Sylvain said, making his way over to the small room. Just as Dimitri knew it would be, the person at the tills didn't bat an eye at them, letting Dimitri sit in the chair just beyond, listening out just in case.

The only thing he heard, however, were a handful of strangled noises, ones Dimitri recognised as 'oof ouch ow my arm is stuck in the binder'. "Is everything alright? Do you need a hand?" he asked.

"Nope, I'm all good!" Sylvain squeaked back, the shuffling noises increasing in frequency before disappearing entirely.

Sylvain emerged from the changing rooms a few minutes later, a pile of clothes on each arm. "I like these ones," he said, waving the slightly larger pile in Dimitri's direction.

"Good," Dimitri said, taking them and leaving the rest to Sylvain. "I'll go and buy these. I'll see you by the door?"

Sylvain nodded, offering him a smile, but it looked emptier than before. Even when Dimitri handed over the bag with the newly folded clothes within, he seemed a little subdued, immediately turning down the suggestion of going to another shop to see if they could find shirts that better fit his tastes.

Dimitri knew well what this could be, could see it in every inch of Sylvain's shaky smile, in the angle of his hunched shoulders. Trying on clothes was never the most comfortable experience, and when you didn't like your appearance... being forced to stare at it from multiple angles to work out if the clothes fit wasn't something anyone wanted.

"Sylvain," he said. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

Sylvain offered him another watery smile and hummed. "If you want to," he said. "I don't want to keep you from anything you wanted to buy."

"I want to buy food," Dimitri said firmly, very nearly dragging Sylvain into the nearest cafe. He'd never been there before, but it looked nice enough - he ordered the first couple of things that came to mind and moved to sit at a quieter table in the corner.

With Sylvain opposite him, looking just a little out of place, Dimitri couldn't help but remember the last time he'd seen a scene like this. "This is just like old times," he said. "If you can count a month and a half ago as old times, anyway."

Sylvain let out a soft laugh. He seemed a little more cheerful already, his milkshake disappearing at a rapid pace. "Yeah, you could say that." He tapped his fingers once against his glass, expression thoughtful. "A lot has changed since the last time we did this, huh?"

"For the better?" Dimitri checked. The way Sylvain smiled sometimes didn't lie, but he needed to know regardless.

Sylvain paused for just a moment, and that only encouraged Dimitri; the answer was considered, not just automatic. "Yeah," he said. "I think so. For the better."

* * *

The specifics of the dream vanished the moment Dimitri regained consciousness, but the feeling remained. The itch at the back of his neck, the shaking to his limbs, and the unshakeable feeling that there was _something_ in the darkness.

Several times, there had been. Nothing real, not exactly, but it had been real to _him._ The thought of that being his reality once more scared him - he was doing so much better these days. It felt unfair that something like this would return.

He refused to let it. He ran through everything in his head that had helped - sleep was one, but he definitely couldn't get that right now. It probably wasn't late enough in the day to take his meds; he normally took them at breakfast, but the darkness beyond his curtains told him there were still hours left to go before that.

It helped to not be alone, but it was early in the morning. Even with Sylvain in the next room, he couldn't wake him in good conscience.

There was only one thing left - keeping himself busy. And when his mind was as scattered as this, there was only one thing he could think of that would actually work. So Dimitri half walked, half stumbled over to the kitchen and got out everything he needed to make cookies.

He was halfway through mixing the butter with the sugar when the door clicked open again and Dimitri realised that maybe baking wasn't as quiet as he thought it was. Sylvain, eyes bleary, shuffled over to the tiny kitchen table with his hair fluffed up around his face.

"I'm so sorry," Dimitri said, holding out a packet of chocolate chips as a peace offering. Sylvain blinked twice and held out his hand, letting Dimitri tip a generous helping into his palm. "I didn't realise I would wake you. I am... baking."

"You're baking," Sylvain echoed, his eyes meeting Dimitri's for a moment. Dimitri thought he caught the hint of a frown, but before he could worry about it too much, it vanished. "Want me to take over? I can make you something nice." 

Dimitri considered it for a moment; it was a nice gesture, and he'd feel bad refusing it. But at the same time, if he stopped... "We could do it together?" he suggested. He didn't know how he'd keep the thoughts at bay if he wasn't doing something with his hands.

This time, there was no hint of a frown on Sylvain's face. He smiled, eyes bright, and leapt up beside Dimitri. The tiredness in his form vanished, and he moved with the kind of energy Dimitri could never summon at this time in the morning.

At first, Dimitri didn't feel much better about the whole thing. His mind kept drifting to places it shouldn't, even as he carefully spooned the mixture onto the tray, listening to Sylvain ramble on about the disaster that was the second year art showcase for his degree.

And yet, halfway through Sylvain's dramatic retelling of how his coursemate's sculpture made entirely of stacked and glued together polystyrene cups collapsed during the third day of the showcase, the shadows seemed to have cleared a little. 

By the time the oven beeped, Dimitri almost burning his hands on the tray and then _actually_ burning his tongue on the melted chocolate in the biscuits, his head felt far clearer, and he managed to meet Sylvain's eyes with a smile. In reply, Sylvain laughed, throwing his head back and making a motion at Dimitri's mouth.

Dimitri's smile widened, and he wiped the chocolate away. "Thank you," he said.

Sylvain shrugged. "It's not a bother at all," he said. "Your recipe was really good." At that, he stuffed another cookie into his mouth. "That said, we should probably head back to bed If you want to."

Dimitri nodded. If he stayed awake from now, it was more likely than not that he'd end up passing out close to nine in the evening, which helped exactly no one (and especially not his sleep schedule). "Goodnight," he said, standing to go back to his room.

"Goodnight," Sylvain replied, but he didn't turn away to go back to the living room. Instead, he padded quietly across the floor behind Dimitri, coming to a stop just in his bedroom doorway. "Would you... like me to stay?"

For a moment, Dimitri considered saying that no, he'd be fine. And he _would_ be fine - the vestiges of his ghosts were fading away now, especially as the dawn inched closer.

But at the same time... Dimitri was well aware that it was Sylvain who created that pool of warmth in his chest that kept the demons at bay. And if he was willing, Dimitri wouldn't object. He couldn't deny that it would help.

"It would be appreciated," he said eventually. "If you would be alright with that."

Sylvain nodded, a sleepy smile on his face. "It'd be a pleasure," he said, rearranging Dimitri's rumpled sheets and settling down on the side next to the wall. "Is this alright?"

Dimitri was intimately aware of the fact that he was now blushing. A lot. Hopefully the dim light was enough to disguise it, but with his luck? He doubted it. Sylvain probably knew exactly how this made him feel. "Y-yes," he managed. "This is fine."

In reality, 'fine' resembled something close to sitting at the table like nothing was wrong while the room was on fire. Except the fire was Sylvain, his body warm and so, so close, their limbs tangling into each other in the too-small bed. The sheets ended up abandoned at some point, twisted mostly around Dimitri's ankles; it was too warm.

It was probably the most uncomfortable sleeping arrangement Dimitri had endured since he quit the hiking club in his second year of university, at least in theory.

In practise... Dimitri didn't sleep _well,_ and when he woke in the morning he felt more like he hadn't slept at all, and he was dehydrated and would almost certainly regret eating anything sugary in the middle of the night. But none of that mattered.

What mattered was seeing the way Sylvain's hair caught the sunlight in the morning, the sleepy blink of his eyes and the way his eyelashes fluttered as he drifted between sleep and consciousness. It was the light in his eyes when he realised Dimitri was there, and the blush when he realised just how _much_ of him was there.

Sylvain probably did it because they were good friends. Maybe he even did it because he felt he owed Dimitri something. But in that moment, Dimitri could close his eyes and listen to the sound of Sylvain's breathing and think about how, maybe, it would be wonderful to do this every day.

* * *

The first sign Dimitri got that something was wrong was the sound of a soft thunk in the living room. "Sylvain?" he asked, popping his head out of the bedroom door to see the second sign that something was wrong.

Sylvain's phone had hit the skirting board and now lay on the floor a few feet away from where Sylvain was face down on the sofa. "Dimitri," he said, voice muffled by the cushion. "No need to worry about me."

Dimitri let out a soft breath of laughter before he crossed the room, retrieving Sylvain's phone. It was unlocked, open to a text from his mother. A long text that covered more than the full screen. "Do you want me to put this away somewhere?"

Sylvain looked up, his face slightly red. "No," he said, his voice still thick. "Could you- she sent a text. And I couldn't read it, because it just made me so..." His fists clenched into the sofa cushion as he pushed himself up into a seated position. Dimitri nodded. "Could you read it to me?"

Dimitri nodded again, coming to sit down at Sylvain's side. Sylvain pointedly looked away from the phone screen, but didn't move away, so Dimitri angled it away from his gaze and began to read.

"My dearest little-" Dimitri winced. "I'm going to substitute a few words, but the bulk will be the same. Is that alright?"

Sylvain nodded. "Probably for the best," he said. "She- misgenders a lot. From what I read."

"Of course. So she says... your deadname, and then continues. 'I know we haven't exactly been on speaking terms these past few weeks, and I very much apologise for that. I think part of it is from me - it hurts so much to hear my little child say such cruel things about themselves and their father. I just wanted to talk to you about the future and all my regrets, and I hope you'll hear me out.'

"'This may seem such a shallow little thing, but every time I think of you, I think of those bright shining eyes and your beautiful hair. It's such a wonderful thing, and you've always looked after it very well - it made me proud, when you were little, to see my child so well taken care of and taking pride in their appearance.'

"'It feels like such a loss and a shame to think that you will no longer be my little one, a proud and beautiful individual who will grow to be strong and successful just like their parents. We've had our differences over your choice of romantic partners in the past, and I stand by my judgement of some of them.'" At that, Sylvain snorted. Dimitri wanted to do something, say something, but if Sylvain didn't stop him, it was clear he wanted to hear it to the end.

"'I have not always been the best mother to you. I should have been more present, should have paid more attention to my darling child. I did not realise that such neglect from me would result in something like this. I hope that you can understand that I care for you very deeply, and hope only that we can learn from this. Please do not sacrifice the beauty you spent so long caring for just for the sake of this rebellion of yours. Ever loving, your mother.'"

Dimitri put the phone down on the coffee table in silence, hoping his expression explained all his feelings about the message. It was- well, it was disgusting. It was manipulative, and selfish, and the opposite of everything Sylvain deserved. It made him sick.

Hesitantly, he put an arm around Sylvain, pulling him a little closer. Sylvain relaxed against him for a while, and Dimitri listened in silence as he slowly, slowly got his breathing back under control, his muscles loosening just a little.

Dimitri was just about to break the silence when Sylvain did it himself with perhaps the last words he expected.

"Hey Dimitri," Sylvain said, his gaze meeting Dimitri’s. His eyes were fierce. "Cut my hair off."

Dimitri blinked. "Are you sure?" he checked. He understood the impulse - understood it too well, perhaps. But Sylvain had said before that he didn't mind his hair, and liked it enough that even in the face of stereotypes he'd decided to keep it.

It wasn't something he disliked, but now...

"I'm sure," Sylvain said. His fists clenched at his sides. "Until I..." He shook his head. "I don't want to feel like I'm clinging to those feelings. I know you covered it up when you read it, but- she wants me to be her beautiful little girl." He practically spat the words out, his voice desperately angry. "I didn't want to lose her in all of this, even if she's such a shitty mother sometimes that even she admitted it."

"You don't have to cut your hair off to prove anything," Dimitri said. If Sylvain wanted it, he'd do it, but if he didn't then it wasn't worth it.

"I know," Sylvain said. "But I want to prove to _myself_ that I'm not clinging on to what she wants just for the sake of preserving a fraction of our relationship. Until I'm confident in that, I'll have my hair short. It’s not like it can’t grow back."

"Of course," Dimitri said, offering Sylvain an encouraging smile. The one he received in reply was a little more watery, but it was there. Sylvain was very sure. "I-I don't have particularly good scissors. But we could go to the bathroom and give it a shot?"

In the depths of various bad mental health days, Dimitri had been known to cut his own hair. Just when he couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing him, not even a hairdresser. So he had a basic idea of how it worked, but perhaps not enough.

Looking at Sylvain—now sat in front of the sink on a stool they dragged over from the kitchen—he thought he could give it a shot. Anything was better than nothing, and they could go somewhere to get it tidied up another time.

He gathered Sylvain's hair up in a ponytail first, before realising it was far too thick and splitting it into two. Then he split those up, but ran out of hair ties (where did they all go?) partway through and just had to improvise.

Sylvain smiled at him in the mirror. "It doesn't have to be perfect," he said firmly.

"It won't be," Dimitri promised, "but I'd like it to be as good as possible. If I can manage it."

"Anything you can manage is amazing," Sylvain said, so Dimitri took the plunge and started cutting.

It turned out that Sylvain had a lot of hair. It scattered all over the floor, into the sink, and ended up all over both their clothes. Dimitri's cunning plan of using a sheet of bubble wrap to keep it off Sylvain's shoulders failed dramatically, but the hair was definitely falling away from his head.

Once Sylvain had a bob, he started trimming it down, hoping it wouldn't look too terrible or uneven. Then he went for the fringe, cutting it back to match the new length.

Eventually, it was finally something he was happy with. It was obviously an amateur cut, with Sylvain's hair sticking out at every possible angle, but he didn't seem to mind. When Dimitri made a halfhearted effort at dusting off his shoulders and pronounced the haircut done, Sylvain burst into tears.

The smile on his face was impossibly wide. It made Dimitri's heart ache with a hundred different emotions, all of them good.

Once Sylvain had dried his eyes, the smile hadn't faded even a little. He picked up a broom and started sweeping up the truly impressive amount of hair from all over the floor. "Do people snoop in bins in your neighbourhood?" he asked with a laugh.

Dimitri snorted. "I hope not," he said. "They're going to think I killed a very fluffy dog if they do."

Sylvain laughed again. When he was done cleaning up, he flopped onto the floor of the living room, staring up at the ceiling. He kept running his hands through his hair, over and over. "There's going to be hair shrapnel in everything for weeks," he complained.

"Probably," Dimitri answered, flopping down on the floor to lie next to him. There wasn't anything interesting on the ceiling, but he hadn't expected there to be. "It'll be in the food, in the shower..."

"In the laundry, popping up all over every surface..." Dimitri heard more than saw Sylvain move to ruffle his hair up again. There was another thing, too - the sound of tears in his eyes.

When Sylvain's hand moved back down to his side again, Dimitri took a chance. He grabbed Sylvain's hand, not even thinking about what it might mean to him.

Sylvain's breath hitched. For a moment, Dimitri expected him to pull away.

But he didn't. Instead, he intertwined their fingers, holding Dimitri tight. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You don't need to," Dimitri answered. "I'd do anything to make this okay."

He'd do anything to make this better; to make this _good._ And he'd do it all without a second thought.

"It'll be better than okay," Sylvain said, his voice shaky but full of something Dimitri was far too terrified to name. "It'll be wonderful."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate a comment or kudos if you enjoyed, it means a lot :) please consider giving Charles' art your love too
> 
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>  [fic promo post](https://twitter.com/samariumwriting/status/1369308003430789130?s=20)


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